


To Contemplate the Beautiful Thing

by arthureameslove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthureameslove/pseuds/arthureameslove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean always said that Cas would be different. That he was different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Contemplate the Beautiful Thing

It didn’t happen in a skeevy motel or in some stashed-away room upstairs at a frat party. Dean always said Cas would be different. That he was different. 

To be honest he really didn’t expect it.

Dean went all out. The candle-lit evening for two, the single rose given on his doorstep, the promises of forever that he knew would not be kept but held on to nevertheless. It struck him, sometime in the middle of a half-hearted argument, that Dean had never done any of this before, couldn't have, because he never had the chance. Never in his lengthy string of one-night stands had he ever tried to make more than a physical connection. Dean was the type who only ever knew sex, only that form of intimacy. He had never said those three words to anyone excepting his mother, and look how that turned out. Heck, he hadn’t even known Dean could cook before that night. 

Eh, what the hell. Why not.

They never finished dinner. The night began with the heat of their skin, tongues dancing over shivering surfaces. Dean was the one who took it slow. He placed languid kisses anywhere he could during the feverish tumble to the bed. Hands roamed over each other, desperate to feel, to know. 

Slow movements, his drawn out thrusts nearly drove Cas over the edge, the softness in his eyes breaking his heart and filling it at once. Dean pushed in deeper and deeper, groans mingled with his whispered adorations. Cas wasn't sure if he felt like he was falling or flying—either way uncertain he would survive the impact.

It was those three words that unraveled him.

When Cas came back to the world he almost didn't expect him to be there. He shifted in the sheets and glanced to his right. His eyes met Dean's, as warm as they had been all evening. He had a affinity for defying expectations. He smiled, but it was a fragile sight. His face was impassive yet somehow vulnerable. Cas cautiously shuffled closer while Dean remained where he was. Cas leaned in and pressed his lips against Dean's, tongue slowly roaming, lazily tasting. His hands reached up and brushed his cheeks, as if they could feel the scattering of freckles. Eyes closed, Cas drew back. He tilted his head and rested his forehead against Dean's own. “Did you mean it?”

He imagined more than felt Dean's jaw clench. Maybe if he continued to close his eyes it wouldn’t hurt as much when he said that no, he did not, in fact, speak the truth in that moment—that it was only a means to an end—

“Did I mean what?”

He grimaced, voice quiet as he mumbled, “You know.”

Dean placed a hand under his chin and gently tilted his head up. Cas opened his eyes because deep down he knew the absence of sight wouldn't lessen the pain, nothing would, so why not face it head on and spare any illusions and false hopes. His expression was determined and Cas steeled himself for the rejection he knew would come.

“I love you.”

The sound that escaped him was a stunned hiccup mingled with a breath of relief. 

Dean clutched him as if he were something precious and he kissed him, lingering, with lips and tongue and teeth. 

Cas pulled away and said, “Well, I hardly need to say it back—I’m assuming you already know, judging by how painfully obvious I am.”

He huffed a laugh and smiled ruefully, a hint of something in his eyes. "I wouldn't mind hearing it."

Cas lit up as he whispered, "Well then, I love you. I love you as the ridiculous, emotionally constipated, wonderful, intelligent, selfless Dean Winchester. Nothing less."

***

A lifetime later Cas lay in his arms drifting in and out of a blissful haze when he quietly said, “I do. I really do. You know that right?”

“I know.”


End file.
